Like Two Perfect Cirles Intertwined
by WreckintoMe
Summary: He hasn't seen her in years, but images of her fill his dreams. A night of fluidity and peacefulness goes to hell when he see a flash of white moving throughout the crowd.


Sitting at the bar was more difficult than he could imagine. All he dreamed about doing tonight was to sit at the bar alone and drink till the morning sun rose. He didn't want drunk up girls slurring "Will you dance with me" or having to carry a conversation till he goes mindless. He wanted was to drink and drink, but more importantly to be alone.

Alone. It's what he's been for a while.

It starts sometime around midnight, the music's rhythm grows louder and the room seems to get more crowded by the second. As he stands under the bar light, he laughs as the band begins to play a song about forgetting yourself for a while. The band reminds him of melancholy soundtrack of his past. It reminds him of her.

He turns to the counter and asks for another round of shots for himself, then winks to the wide eye guy next to him who's already tripping after four.

The lights dim and he feels a bit more relaxed. His muscles loosen and he can already feel his mind drowning in the pool of tequila. He feels the buzz that runs through him and it makes him smile.

What the hell.

He takes another shot, feeling the delicious burn flow down his throat when all of a sudden he sees a flash of white moving through out the crowd.

He whips the glass from his mouth and stares at the figure weaving in at out the crowd like she's done million times before.

There's a change in his emotion, and all these memories come rushing like feral waves to his mind.

She's different; he thinks. Her hair grew, the shoulders that once carried burdens were bolted strong, and she's happy. She's laughing, turning, and holding her tonic like a cross. Her face dances with shadows of the lights as her hands move with course of the melody. Though he's entranced, the thing that catches his eye, the one thing that catches his breathe is her dress, the short white dress that he hasn't seen in a while.

He looks away and flashes his eyes around for the nearest exit. He has to get out, he has to escape. By the time he pays for his drinks and reaches for his coat, the room is suddenly spinning; she's walking towards him.

Her steps are short and light and it bothers him that he can still hear her footsteps under the thunder of music. Her perfume lingers under his nose and the image of her lying naked in his arms is imprinted in his brain. His mind is screaming- shrieking for him to run and he tries but the chains that she once held are back in her grasp.

He is always a prisoner; always in shackles and strangely the thought makes his heart beat a soft, lovely pattern.

She looks up to him and he can see how much this hurts her too. Her lips quivers as plays with her hair but it doesn't matter, nothing matters, she's here.

She's asked how he is and smiles as his mouth open and closes with no reply. Her smile is even more beautiful and all he can think about is the curl of their bodies like two perfect circles intertwined.

He wants to run. He wants to run and never come back. He feels hopeless and homeless and lost in the haze of the wine.

Her face flashes with pain before she turns away. He didn't say anything, not a single word, but he didn't need to, his words were in his eyes.

He turns back to the counter and orders another shot, gulping it down like he was dying of thirst.

"Fuck fuck fuck"

He slowly turns around and scans the room for her. As he gets out of his seat he sees her leave with someone he doesn't know. The thought makes his stomach knot with wires but she turns and makes sure he saw her; she look right at him and bolts.

He stands there in a sea of people moving like time being fast forward. His breathing turns shallow and he suddenly needs air. He can't breathe; he can't stay there, he needs out.

He's walking out the bar and his blood's boiling, and stomach's in ropes. The guy at the door stops him and asks him what's wrong. He doesn't say anything, he can't speak.

"What is it man? You look like you've seen a ghost." He pushes pass him and runs out into the night.

The cold air hits him like a wall of fire, but it doesn't help. Nothing is right at the moment.

Then he walks under the streetlights, and he's too drunk to notice that everyone is staring at him. He stumbles and crawls; he needs to go faster, he needs to get away. He doesn't care what he looks like, hell; he doesn't care if someone gave him shit about it. The world is falling around him, but something in his mind is screaming to him. It's loud and present and it terrifies him.

He looks up to the street and spots another flash of white. But this time he doesn't run away, he can't, because the chain she has on him is moving and he has to follow.

He just has to see her,

He just has to see her,

He just has to see her,

He just has to see her,

and he knows that she'll break him in two.


End file.
